


On The Coast

by The Space Bard (GraceJordan)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Go To The Coast, Jaskier | Dandelion Saves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, heartbreak and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23893894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceJordan/pseuds/The%20Space%20Bard
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier make it to the coast, but they make it too late
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105





	On The Coast

Jaskier always dreamed of the sand between his toes, the warm waves crashing into him over and over again, like the biggest bath he’d ever have. And he’d always picture his Witcher by his side, like how they always ended up.

What he didn’t quite expect was the water running up his ass, too. 

Sitting on the beach, he was too tired, too dizzy, to really sit up much. But just the warmth of the sun and the invasive waves were enough. The deeper he sunk into the sand the colder it got, but it only made the sun all the sweeter. Finally, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “We made it to the coast.”

“Should’ve done this before.” 

With what little energy he head, Jaskier propped his back up, leaning on his elbows. Despite the sand and the sun, Geralt was hugging his knees, like a small, scared, sad child that was too indignant to cry. 

Jaskier laughed again, at his ever grumpy Witcher, but it made him cough and it hurt more than it should. “Hey, what matters is we got here. And it’s so beautiful Geralt. I could stupidly ramble about how it all feels, but it still so much better than anything I could say.”

While he still wouldn’t look at him, Geralt said, “Nothing’s better than the things you say.”

If he was in his best shape, he would dance around, throw some clever quips, maybe even play his lute. But he really was quite tired and his fingers... well, they were in no shape to play music. 

Swallowing, Jaskier sunk back down into the sand, getting colder and colder. “We always knew this would happen someday.”

“Not like this.” From the corner of his eye, Jaskier could see Geralt’s course fingers clutch the sand like he was looking for answers. 

He wished he had some.

“Geralt-”

“Why would you do it?” There was a pause, the angriest he ever heard, that seemed to echo this tense energy and make his ears ring, despite the fact he was pretty sure that was the softest Geralt’s voice had ever been. “The trap was for me.” 

The bard smiled, not remembering the pain, but the ease of accepting it. After all, this was his Witcher. His fragile mortality never changed the weight that held in him, like a guiding star tied to the erratic little bird that was his flighty heart.

No matter what happened, everything always seemed to lead back to Geralt.

That, or his own attraction to the man let him turn their bond into something all the more fantastical.

It didn’t really matter was the truth was, anymore, when life itself was but sand slipping through his fingers. 

When he opened his mouth, it was harder to talk. “Because you needed saving for once.”

“I might’ve survived.”

“You might’ve not.” Jaskier tried to laugh, but he just started choking. The sun started to have spots, like black holes eating away at it. Made sense. He was getting colder by the minute. “I don’t regret living and dying for a Witcher, so don’t you dare blame yourself. It would be tragically boring.”

“Jaskier, I-” 

“I know.” Geralt turned finally, his yellow eyes softer than the bard had ever seen. It made breathing harder than the blood loss. He could see the red swirling into the crystal blue waves, but he did his best not to look. Not like it would make any of this easier. But when he went to grab his hand, Geralt only looked more hollowed out, realizing there was no hand to grab. The monster had done well to bit that clean off. 

The Witcher dragged himself closer to Jaskier, reach across his body, grab the hand that was left. “You don’t. I thought I had more time.”

“No one ever has as much time as they think.” 

“Why are you taking this lying down?”

“Well, I can’t really stand. No legs, y’see-”

“This isn’t the time for jokes.”

Despite Geralt’s frown, that was holding back these red, watery eyes that really broke his heart, Jaskier patted his hand and kept smiling. He had to keep smiling. “It’s all I got. And I so desperately wish you wouldn’t cry for me. I didn’t fall in love with you for that. Otherwise I was with the wrong man.” 

“Does a man do this to people he loves?”

“Much worse. I’d say you did pretty well by me, all things considered.” With all the energy he could muster, Jaskier pressed his hand to Geralt’s cheek. “I’m going to be too tired to open my eyes soon, and I assume that means it’s about over. So just know this: You, Geralt of Rivia, were worth it. And I love you.” The sand was cold, he couldn’t feel much of anything but his lips and his fingertips entwined with Geralt’s. All he could hope was that his Witcher remembered he saved a man, not a monster. And that he wouldn’t have bothered if the man wasn’t worth the damn trouble and all the missed stories left in the world. 

It's just that Geralt’s story just mattered too much to him to let it end.

With the final whisper left in him, Jaskier said, “And we made it.”

“We made it.” 

Then, as Geralt pressed his lips lightly to Jaskier’s, the sun went cold.

**Author's Note:**

> I FELT MOODY TODAY I'M SORRY


End file.
